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COPYRIGHT, 1919, IN THE UNITED STATES 
by Mrs. Frances E. Clemens. 
CANADIAN COPYRIGHT 
and 

INTERNATIONAL COPYRIGHT 
Owned by 

Gwendolen C.,, Roth M. and Elizabeth. C. Clemens. 


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Billy the Bard 

(By Albert N. Dennis, with apologies to Wim. M. Clemens) 

In this beautiful world is a valley quite grand, 

Where nature is natural—iserene; 

Mountain men live there, whose hearts are quite true, 
And the glory of God can be seen. 

In this valley so grand lives a man among men’, 

And the story is pretty, indeed: 

His friends call him “Billy,” and “Billy’s” a bard, 

With joy and Godliness his creed, 

* 

Billy sings of the beauties in this valley so rare, 

Of “the old swimmin’ hole” and the days gone by; 

And he promised his Maker that whenever he’d write 
He’d remind us of glories awaiting on high. 

His smile is contagious,, for it’s in all his songs, 
Spreading gladness and making life’s road less hard; 
And aid the world’s better and life is more bright, 

Just because our friend Billy’s a bard. 













































Retrospection 

So much to do, 

So little dome. 

A smile,, a sigh, 

Amd the. day is gone. 

Our life is ended 

When it should start. 

We come in the morning, 
At night depart. 

So much to do 
I,ni this busy 'life. 

Heartaches and sighs 
With endless strife. 

So little done, 

Some iso,nig of hate 

And a voice in the night 
Too late! Too late! 

So much to 'do, 

So little done, 

And the caravan passes 
One 1 by one. 

There’s a gleam of hope 
From yonder sky 

If you love ime 

I’ll not pass you iby. 










Home, Sweet Home 

'When you’re away from home and anxious 
And you’re tired and feeling blue, 

You are thinking of the sweetness 
That surrounds the friends so true. 

The old pump and the bull dog, 

And the piano down the street 
Just makes a fellow wish that he 
Had wings instead of feet. 

The sun it shines as brightly 
O’er the earth from out the sky 
The 'birds just sing as sweetly 
As the clouds are passing by. 

A little spot within your heart 

Keeps bumping up and down 

And somehow you can’t stop it 

When you’re away from your home town. 

It’s funny but it lingers 
In the heart from day to day, 

That home, sweet home,, grows dearer 
If you’re miles and miles away. 

I’d rather live and worship 
Where sweet memory ever clings, 

Than live in all the grandeur 
With the potentates and kings. 


Reflections 

I do not know if I’Ll be’missed 
When I’m underneath the sod,, 
And my spirit has departed 
And, I hope, is safe with God. 

I’ll think of the many I have met 
When I travelled my earthly way, 
And I hope we’ll know each other 
On that great judgment day. 

I love to think of the faces, 

The hand clasps and the tears, 
The fellowship I’ve had with each 
These many and many years. 

’Tis only a touch of nature; 

We speed along the way, 

And I hope we’re all forgiven 
On that great judgment day. 





Beautiful Winter 

Yes„ I love to live 

Where the frost and the snow 

Whirls gaily about when the North winds blow, 

And the crisp, pure air of a Winter’® day 

Sends the blood a-tingling 

On its way, 

And tine sun and the moon 
And the stars they gleam, 

And life just flows 
Like a riipiling stream, 

And at night when the sky 
Is o’er oast add dark, 

And we wiake from our sleep 
With a sudden “hark,” 

And the howling wind 
Just makes you creep 
And you cuddle up closier and fall asleep, 

And you dream and dream 
Of a summer’s day 
And Santa Claus 
Raking the new mown hay, 

In the mo lining refreshed 
Like the! sparkling dew 
The world is more beautiful, 

Kind and new. 

The sleigh bells are ringing, 

The kettle it sings, 

And your heart is a temple 
That’s fit for the kings', 

So I love to live 1 
Where the frost and the snow 
Sets the heart and the blood 
And the world aglow. 


Happy Days 

What is it that is sweeter 
Than a pretty childish face, 

With eyes that beam with pleasure, 
And a sweet alluring grace? 

A pair of trusting, loving arms, 

With cheeks so soft and warm, 

I would not give my baby’si kiss 
For a kingdom and a farm. 

I like to dance them on my knee, 

Or to roil them cm the floor, 

And to send them laughing in the air, 
Or to kiss them at the door. 

I like to tickle their little toes, 

And to hear 'them laugh with glee, 

Or to tear the old house upside down t 
When my babies romp with me. 

How sweet the childish prattle 
When it daily comes to me. 

’Twill be my fondest pleasure 
Through the (long eternity. 

But give me back 'those happy days 
With my babies from above, 

And let me liive them o’er again 
With their mother’® fondest love. 





The Old Turnpike 

How we used to love to climb on a wagon, 

And the boys helped pull us in, 

And drag us over the tail-gate and peel 
The skin all off of our shin; 

The bed was hard and the road was hard, 

And we jolted for many a mile, 

And then walked back on that same old track 
And be happy all of the while. 

I often think of the horses and wagons 
And the fellows who used to drive, 

The dear old pike that we loved to hike, 

And the memories to keep alive; 

The many stories that ever were told 
When the good old stages ran, 

Of the wind and the cold and the robbers bold; 
And the teams that were spick and span. 

Oh, glorious memories, that cling around 
The earliest turnpike days, 

Will soon ibe forgot, for we know they were not 
As fast as our present ways; 

But they helped pave the way for our glorious today 
And the trails that ever lead om. 

The auto, of course, plays the deuce with the horse— 
We’ll be sorry, and weep when he’s gone. 


Would a Million 

Would a million elevate me and change 
a sweet smile to a grin? 

Would a million ever tempt ime to com¬ 
mit a wayward sin? 

Would a million spoil the beautiful 
dream I live in day by day? 

If it would, Dear Lord,, remove it ten 
thousand miles away. 

Would a million draw ime far away from 
sympathy and love? 

Would a million spoil the hope I have 
for that sweet home above? 

Would a imilliom cause my life to give to 
others grief and* pain? 

If it would Dear Lord, remove it; let me 
dream my dreams again. 

Would a millioim make me sweeter and to 
understand God’s plan? 

Would a million help me touch the heart 
of my dear fellqw man;? 

Would a million help me ease the pain 
and make hope one glad song? 

If it would,. Dear Lord, please send it 
and keep ime ibusiy all life long. 





Tommy Finnegan 

'Twas a broth of a bay that stood in the box 
Im many a good old game. 

His Ibody was long, his arms were strong, 

He could send a ball in like a flame, 

With a genial smile that clung all the while. 

And the batters had nary a snitch. 

It was. up and away for we all loved to play 
When Tommy Finnigan went in to pitch. 

’Twas a broth of a boy that I loved to see, 

When he’d smile and look all around,, 

“Look out, Bill,” he’d say, “It’s coming your way.” 

I knew it for I heard the sound. 

And I’d take a try and would grab at a fly 
’Twas more fun than diggin’ a ditch, 

It was hurrah and hurray! with the boys bright and gay, 
When Tommy Finnigan went in to pitch. 

’Twas a dandy good time, in boyhood sublime,, 

With the happy days out on the green. 

The pitcher, the crowd, the yelling so loud, 

Are painted on sweet memory’s screen, 

But I used to play, when I’d oft steal away 
I remember the sting of the switch, 

But I love the days and the many by-plays 
When Tommy Finnigan went in to pitch. 


A Winter Evening 

I love to sit in the evening 

And watch the snow come gently down, 

And the calm sweet winter stillness 
Seems to add to the gentle crown 
Of white that fills the earth and sky, 

As the evening shadows fall. 

For it’s beautiful,, beautiful everywhere 
As the snow lies over all. 

The beautiful change seems consistent 
As a perfect, sweet day in June, 

And the rapturous dream o’er hill and stream 
Sets the whole fair world in tune. 

It’s just one sweet change to another 
We’ll remember as t^e long ages fly, 

The beauty of all will be sweet to recall 
When we reach our fair home in the sky. 





Some Day, Somewhere 

Some -day we’ll all be forgotten, 

And, the flowers and songs will be 
As sweet to some other fellow, 

As they have ever been to me. 

And other loves will sweeten 
And grow in some other heart, 

While sorrows and sighs will follow 
Just the same as when we part. 

There are many good fellows before us 
Who are underneath the sod, 

Who played the game of life as we 
And are unknown to all but God. 

I think sometimes I can see them 
As the ages have onward rolled; 

I hope some day to grasp their hand 
And chum when their stories are told. 

And I want to know all about the things 
That have happened since I passed away, 
For I have tried to fathom the future 
And the dawn of the Millennium day, 

I want to know what they think of us 
If we were smarter than they, 

And if they played the game of life, 

Or quietly drifted away. 

I want to travel to all of the planets 
And visit each star in the sky, 

I want to rest awhile in Mars, 

And see other worlds go by. 

All of these things will be added to us 
If we live a life of love, 

And consecrate our lives to Him 
Till we join in heaven above. 











Berry’s Swimmin Hole 

I can see the well-worni (beaten track 
And the water invitingly sweet, 

For there we alwayis journeyed 
To enjoy a living treat. 

And then when we came .near the place 
Some fellow, he would yell: 

“The last one in’s a nigger.” 

And we tumbled in pell mell. 

I can feel the sparkling water 
That just seemed to be alive 
And, Oh, how sweet refreshing 
When you came up from a dive. 

I remember many good, old games 
We had of fox and geese; 

Arud how we used to scramble 
When someone would yell, “Police!” 
And I remember the old frog 
Whose voice was on the bum, 

We would lay around upon the rocks 
And hear him yell, “More Rum.” 

His voice it seemed like thunder 
As it floated on the air— 

We used to wonder how big he was 
And the guesses would make you stare. 
The overhanging verdure, 

The cliffs and the big rocks, 

The smiling of that swimming hole 
Was sweeter than all stocks. 

Oh, the afternoons and evenings— 

Let me kiss the dream again 
Amongst the babble of the voices 
That brings back a sweet refrain. 

I know when time shall be no more, 

And the surges cease to roll 

The boys they’ll all come flying back 

To Berry’s Swimmin’ Hole. 




Just Keep On A-Lovin' 

When 'Springtime domes so sweet and fair, 

And we live and rejoice in 'the changing air, 
When it comes to the world from its hidden lair 
I just keep on amovin’. 


When flowers are here in May and June 
And the hinds are singing their sweetest tune, 
When our isouls cry out in isweet commune^ 

I jusit keep on amovin’. 

When summer, dear summer, the essence of love, 
It nestles so sweetly like a ford 1 turtle dove, 
When I feel all the glories that come from above, 

I just keep on a-lovin’. 

When fall comes rolling around in time 
With a “Kiss me quick, for I’m sublime,” 

When the birds fly south to another clime, 

I just keep on adlovin’. 

When the wintry wands go ripping past 
And the snow is deep and the sky o’ercast; 

When I think that imy lark will never last, 

I just keep on amovin’. 

When things they never come just right 
And clouds obscure the faintest light, 

When everything’s as. dark as night, 

I just keep on amovin’. 


Sunset 

There’s a beautiful sight 
In that wonderful Sun,, 

As it dies away in the west, 

Its glorious, ray, added beauties display, 

Ere it sinks to its sweet night’s rest. 

At times red and mellow 
With a tinge of faint yellow, 

Of azure, of blue and gray; 

I just raise my eyes, and feast with surprise, 

At the close of each fast fleeting day. 

There’s, a beautiful sight 
In that wonderful Sun, 

As it dies away in the west, 

We feast and we cling, as the tinted skies bring 
The thoughts of that land of the blest, 

Where you—-you arid I, 

If we’re faithful, draw nigh 
To that City prepared up above, 

There the rays of the Sun, will be sweetly undone. 
In the light of His wonderful love. 












Dreams 

Don’t give up your dreaming, 

For it’s only dreams, that count; 

You may be rich as iCreosus 

And climb way up on the mount; 

You may sit and count your millions 
’Till abundance makes you iscream, 

But there’s nothing gives the pleasure 
Like a sweet and haipipy dream. 

It may be dreams of childhoodi, 

Ere sweet sorrow played its part; 

It may be you were dreaming 
Of the dear girl of your heart; 

You may roam through hills and valleys. 
By a waterfall or stream; 

The moments seem like happy years, 

And your heart—your heart’s agleam. 

It may be dreams of schooldays, 

With the chummy boys and girls, 

The picnics and the dances,, 

And a wealth of similes and curls, 

You cannot stop sweet memories, 
Flowing in a mighty stream; 

For millions cannot touch the heart 
Like a sweet and happy dream. 


Autumn Days 

When: the hazy, lazy, beautiful autumn 
sun is sweetly gleaming, 

And the beautiful valley’s hills and river 
lie so sweetly dreaming, 

And all about the verdure Mills 
The heart and soul with gladness;, 

And the thoughts so rare banish worlds- 
of care, 

And we live and love like madness. 

When the hazy, lazy, beautiful autumn 
sun is sweetly gleaming, 

And the varied colors fill the world with 
a beauty that is beaming. 

And the crickets in the meadows 
Sing a siwan song as they’re dying 
And in the beauty of sweet nature 
Chides the soul for softly singing. 

When the hazy, lazy, beautiful autumn 
sun; is sweetly gleaming, 

And the beauty of this old world sets 
the heart and ipulse a-teeming, 

The sweetest ways in autumn days 
Are wreathed with a fringed glory, 

We pass our time in a ligM sublime 
As we cling to sweet nature’s story. 










Sweet Home 


Home, 

Give me a roof 
And an old quaint cottage, 

When the weather is cold and drear; 

A dear old porch 

And a cozy corner 

With a big log fire to cheer; 

A spirit of love 
Clinging ever about it,, 

For memory will constantly roam 

And my old childhood days 

Filled with pranks and sweet plays, 

Take me back to my home, sweet home. 

/ 

Give me a roof 

And an old quaint cottage, 

Out, way out on the hills, 

Where the bleak winds tear 
And the clouds forbear 

As they temper the heart 'with their thrills; 

Let loved ones be near 

While the fire adds its cheer 

Just to rest from the world’s seething foam; 

With peace, perfect peace, 

Joy of earth, sweet release), 

And I’m dreaming of home, sweet home. 


A Prayer 

Teach me, dear Master,, to live each day, 

To help someone on their heavenly way, 

To lighten, the burdens and soften the care 
And help them to trust and believe in prayer. 

Teach me to love my fellow men, 

Teach me to soften their hearts and them 
Teach me to follow, in Thy footsteps trod, 

Let me live to bring someone home to God. 

Teach me the folly of a life of ease, 

Forgive when my actions sorely displease; 

Let me live caring nothing.for gain or loss, 

Drew me nearer, dear Master, to the foot of the cross. 

Teach me to shuin all the by-ways of sin, 

(Cleanse me and make me pure within, 

Help me when sorrows they over me roll* 

Let me live itJhiait limy life its in Thy control. 













In Rose Time 

In rose time, sweet .rose time, 

The world is so gorgeous in rose'time, 

There’s a mellowy light, softening hearts full of care, 
There’s a quiet and stillness around everywhere, 

And we live in the perfume 'that fills all 1 the air, 

In rose time. 

In rose time, sweet rose time, 

How all children delight in the rose time, 

We are all little children at best overgrown, 

And we like to be children’ at times, we must own, 

And we love all the fragrance that assends to the throne 

In rose time. 

In rose time, sweet rose time, 

There’s a gift from on high in sweet rose time, 

It typifies life, like their fragrance we soar, 

With their mystified sweetness and their historic lore, 

We can cover them with kisses till cur lips they grow sore. 

In sweet rose time. 


I Loves You Honey, ’Deed I Do 

I loves you honey, deed I do, 

You don’t know how I loves you. 

The morning skies with radiant hue 
Have nothing that compares to you. 

I loves you honey, deed I do. 

I loves you. 

I loves you honey, deed I do, 

You don’t know how I loves you. 

The roses with their fragrance sweet 
Ne’er touch the heart like when we -meet. 
I loves you honey, oh, so sweet! 

I loves you. 


I loves you honey, deed I do, 

You don’t know -how I loves you. 
The joys of earth may last awhile,, 
Oh, let me live in your sweet smile; 
Content and happy all the while, 

I loves you. 

I loves you honey, deed I do, 

You don’t know how I loves you. 
The birds are happy all the day, 

Oh, let us live if come what may, 
Forever make life one sweet day: 

I loves you. 


/ 






Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep 

Often the prayer of my childhood days 
Lingers near me, guides my ways, 

Takes me back to a mother’s tove, 

Brightens my pathway up above. 

Oh, the change that has come to me 
Since I knelt at my mother’s knee, 

But every night ere I fall asleep 
I pray the Lord my soul to keep. 

Prayer: 

Now I lay me down to sleep, 

I pray the Lord my soul to keep; 

If I should die before I wake, 

I pray the Lord any soul tio take. 

Fondly we think of the days of yore—* 

Days of memory to come no more, 

Days of pleasure we knew not then 
This toilsome world we would travel in. 

Our thoughts go back im the twilight dim, 

We hear the strains of a sweet old hymn, 

There comes to us those words so rare 
Siweet hallowed words of our childlioods prayer. 

Prayer: 

Now I lay me down to sleep, 

I pray the Lord my soul to keep; 

If I should die before I wake, 

I pray the Lord my soul ito take. 


When Coon Peters Sang Old Black Joe 

When we were boys we would loaf around 
Anywhere we could get in, 

A blacksmith shop, a wagon shop 
Or a shanty we roofed with old tin. 

There’s a shoemaker’s shop I always loved, 

And I’d linger as fond as a doe, 

I’d hear the sweet voice of Coon Peters 
When he sang to me Old Black Joe. 

I never dreamed in those boyish days 
What a blessing they’d be to my soul, 

Or how sweet were the moments as I lingered near 
They would help me press on /to life’®' goal. 

But the sweet, happy voice makes my heart rejoice, 
I can hear it end soft, sweet and low. 

I have heard singers try„ but none could come nigh 
When Coon Peters sang Old Black Joe. 

A'jollier, happier, jovial chap 
Never lifted his voice in song, 

For Old Black Joe was his favorite, 

He ciouild sing most ailil the day long. 

I can hear his siweet voice softly singing, 

And the melody rise sweet and low, 

And I used to stop and. would loaf in his shop, 

When Coon Peters sang Old Black Joe. 


- 





The Challenge Answered 

Out of the storm-tossed Nations . wide, 

Across the deep from the other side, 

A cry was heard of distress and grief— 

Come o’er and help us and (bring relief! 

A Nation had risen in might and power 

To smite the world in a single hour 

And to rule with a vicious cruel hand 

That would crush all these that should dare to stand. 

Our Nation whose life had been kindly led 
Through paths of peace with no future dread, 

And whose every day was a perfect joy 
With hapipinesis beaming without alloy, 

Who worked and planned from day to day 
And lived like a king in' our own sweet way 
And never once dreamed that in store for all 
Was a viciousness hidden as bitter as gall; 

A stab in the hack was our portion rare 
When we faced the world open and on the square. 

We never once thought that our peace would be marred 
And our loved ones be fighting and battle geared. 

And in days to come we should bow our head 
And ask God to bless our loving dead. 

The die is cast, the flag unfurled, 

Our men at the ramparts must he hurled, 

Our very souls must live and fight 
For ihome, for freedom and for right. 

Arise ye, hear ye, one and all, 

Ye men of America heed the call, 

From Maine to the beautiful Golden Gate 
From North to South, in every State. 

Our inmost love for this land of the free 
Is sweeter arid dearer and calls for thee, 

It calls for the best of you, not a sigh, 

America calls you to fight and to die. 

It has paid the price many times before 

And again will fight ’till peace reigns once more. 

(Written in 1917) 




In the Trenches 

There’s a quiet hour of waiting 
In the trenches. 

All (prepared with breath abating 
In the trenches. 

Waiting forward, forward all, 

As the darkening shadows fall; 

Quick they’ll answer to the call 
In the trenches. 

There’s a hardening of the features 
In the trenches. 

They are not the same fond creatures 
In the trenches. 

They are men with nerves intense 

Mein, transformed to men immense, 

Men to count on ini offense 
In the trenches. 

There’s a hurried ibugle-eall, 

In the trenches. 

They move forward like a wall 
In the trenches. 

Quick they answer with a cheer, 

Uncle Sam need never fear 

From the drafted to volunteer 
In the trenches. 

i, _ _ 


,* Spring 

Gee Whiz! I do love spring! 

There’s something sweet about the thing 
That lifts me from my long estate, 

Where I have fallen in spite of fate; 

Through wintry winds, and snow, and slush, 
And buckwheat cakes and lots of mush, 

And pork and beans, and ham and eggs, 

’Till my very soul within me begs; 

But all around me, now, I see 
The budding of each bush and tree; 

And bfossoms hanging thick and rare. 

That seem to come without a care; 

The green grass greets you with a smile, 

And waves contentment all the while; 

The gentle breezes seem to kiss 
And fill the world with joy and bliss; 

The beams of sunlight seem to fall 
With a loving sweetness over all; 

The rivers, creeks and shady nooks. 

Seem grateful to the little brooks; 

The children, bless their trustful eyes, 

Are filled with wonder and surprise; 

It seems about, above, o’er all, 

The love of God just seems to fall; 

With pictures in the morning sky, 

And radiant glory as .nligbt draws nigh; 

How sweetly all the birds' do sing, 

When God, as a message, sends us Spring. 









The Sweetest Love 

(To Mr. John McMasiters) 

There’s a love that is sweeter, 
Than the sweet scented rose; 

There’s a love that is dearer 
The longer it grows. 

There’s a world full of love, 
That is sent from oin high. 

And the incense grows sweeter 
The more we draw nigh. 

The love that he teaches, 

Is for you and for me, ’ 

’Ttwas taught by the iSavior, 

In old Galilee. 

’Twas taught by the prophets, 
Long ages before, 

But He gave it new beauty, 
’Twill live evermore. 

The love that He teaches, 

We, too, ought to teach. 

In far distant lands 

And to those within reach, 

To the tired and weary. 

The burdened and sad. 

This love that He teaches, 

Will make their hearts glad. 

♦ 

The love that He teaches,, 
Grows sweeter each day, 

’Twill lighten the burden is 
Along by the way. 

And somehow the sorrow 
And sadness will flee; 

When touched by the Master, 
From old Galilee. 


The Close of a Perfect Day 

I love to sit in the evening— 

At the close of a perfect day, 

To live in the peaceful moments, 

And watch the children play. 

To dream life’s dream all over, 
iSftir the soul with uncommon zest, 

As the grass and the leaves sigh gently 
While they wait for the sweet might’s rest. 

Sing gently, oh, locust that tells us 
Of the close of a perfect day; 

Sing softly, sing sweetly, oh, locust,, 

For you carry us far, far away. 

For our life, like the day,, it is ending, 

And the morning will soon 'be at hand, 
When we shall enter the pearly gates, 

To rest in that happy land. 





Life’s Journey 

.Some go through life on the wings of song, 

Some go througn life sincere and strong. 

Some go through lire liae a merry jest, 

And forget the promise of Eternal rest. 

-Some go through life as the swift birds fly, 

Some go 'tnrougn life like a drawn out sigh, 

Some go through life with a frown and a sneer, 

With never a tnougnt to help or cneer. 

Some go through life in a glitter and gleam, 

Some go through life like a sullen stream,, 

Some go tiirough life and waste their years, 

And the future has nothing but signs and tears. 

Some go through life, all they think of gain, 

Some go through life bearing burdens and pain, 

Some go through life and their life is dross 
For there is no life without a cross. 

Some go through life like the stars above, 

Some go through life and their life is love, 

■Some go through life satisfied they have won, 

And with folded hands think their life work done. 

Some go through life with a love serene, 

’Twas touched on Calvary and made supreme, 

And they point to the cross that was raised on high 
While they ishouit to the World,, “Draw nigh! Draw nigh! 


June 

Thou lovely, beautiful, Heavenly gleam, 

Thy soft, mellow sunlight enhances my dream 
Of Heaven, whose walls are of jasiper and gold, 

And myriads of ecstasies there 'to behold. 

A glimpse thou dost give us of peace, perfect peace,, 
And a beautiful hope when death gives release. 

The azure blue sky never seemed half as sweet, 

The light seems to fill all the faces you meet; 

The mountains of clouds as they float through the sky 
Fill the world full of glory as they’re passing by; 

Thy sweet, gentle zephyrs that float through the air 
Fill the heart full of love, and drive out despair. 

Vast visions of loveliness everywhere creep, 

The eye seeks contentment and woes nature’s sleep. 

A perfect day ever will bring a sweet tune; 

And smiles are like sunshine in June, isweet June. 





Mamma's Baby 

Mamma’s creepy,, sleepy eyes, 

Better go to bed; 

Mamma’s baby’s sleepy 
And her evening prayers are said. 

Tuck da tovers ’round me, 

Ties me Mamma dear; 

Baby’s doin to sleepy town, 

Baby wants you near. 

Just lay down side me, Mamma, 

Lay oor face din mine; 

Yes, I loves you near me, Mamma, 
Near me all da time. 

'Sing to me a pretty song, 

Let me hold vour hand; 

Tell me ’bout the Angels 
D’at are in da Holy Land. 

Mamma, oo is tired, too. 

Don’t oo weep or cry; 

Baby’s doin to ti«s oo now, 

Sing me lul-la-bv. 

Sweetly Mamma aimers a song 
While the shadows creep; 

Now s ,v, e gemtlv glides away, 

Baby’s fast asleep. 


My Flag 

Where my flag goes 
That’s where I go, 

That’s where I want to be, 

I have loved that flag 
Since childhood 

Since I knelt at my mother’s knee. 

Its folds entwine about my heart, 

Ini a sweet and sacred way, 

I will follow that flag forever, 

To the closing of life’s daiy. 

Where my flag goes 
That’s where I go. 

In the thickest of the fight, 

Where the Stars and Stripes lead onward. 

In the battle for the right 

We’ll fill the world with gladness 

And the glory they shall see 

When the flag goes ever onward 

From this dear land of the free. 


(Written in 1916) 











Childish Prattle 

Just a bunch of 'childish prattle 
That’s, full of love and life, 
iSo innocent, so beautiful, 

Not touched by worldly strife. 

The eyes they speak of Heaven 
Hike a canopy of light, 

The soul bedecks the image 
Like the stars bedeck tne night. 

Just a bunch of childish prattle 
Came into the home so sweet, 
Obeying the impulse of living 
As the world each day does greet. 
At first the joy of the morning, 

At noon the heat of the day 
And the bunch of childish prattle 
Is a life gone on its way. 


Old Jim 

This good old hoss 
’Bout had his day; 

He’s worked in a plough, 

A cart and a dray. 

He’s ipulled and staggered 
Tiss his eyesight is dim, 
’Bout all that he’s heard is 
Come on now Jim! 

From mornin’ till night 
He’d keep tugging away, 
Never mindin’ the weather 
Or the heat of the day. 

He’d lay in the collar 
And pull with a vim, 

When his driver would just say 
'Come oni now Jim! 


The years have gome by, 

He’s kept pullin’ away, 

And the loads they get bigger 
Day after day. 

But he never murmurs. 

It’s all right with him, 
When his driver he hollers 
Come om now Jim! 








The Bobbed-Haired Kid 

I love to see a bolb be d-haired kid 
With a smile and pert as a katydid, 

And big round eyes that look about 

When he sees something ne,w he begins to shout, 

The world looks fine as he travels along; 

His heart is so full he bursts into a song. 

The days are all fine, there the same to him 

When he sees something good, he says, “Yes, that’s Jim.” 

The world’s always sweet and the birds they sing. 
Everything is a circus with him in the ring; 

From a pony to an engine, there’s something for him, 

And I love just to hear him say, “Yes, that’s Jim.” 

So the bobbed-haired kid I love to see 
Will steip in the space made vacant by me. 

He’ll see all the sights 1 , enjoy all the fun|, 

And have a good time till his days they have run. 


Baldhead’s Lament 

What would I give 
For a head of hair 
To soothe the pangs 
Of the changing air. 

To keep me eool 
When the weather’s hot, 
To keep me warm 
At the zero spot. 

I remember how hard 
I tried to save; 

I would go to the barber 
And shave and shave, 
With a watchful hope 
I would feel about 
And my head got. smooth 
As the hair fell out. 

When the wintry winds'— 
They freeze my soul-— 
W.hein the summer’s heat 
Is beyond control, 

When I grope about 
im deep despair 
O, what I would give 
For a head of hair. 





Mamma, Tell Me a Story 

Won't you tell me a story, 

Won’t you mamma dear; 

There is so many, many 
That I would love to hear. 

I am so very lonesome, 

And tired and sleepy, too, 

If you will tell me a story 
I’s got a kiss for you. 

Tell me about Doody Too-Shoes, 

Won’t you Mamma dear, 

Then tell me about the bad boys 
That were eat up (by a bear. 

Tell me about Robin-Red-Breast 
Singing in the tree, 

Gee, I love the stories 

They all sound good to me. 

Tell me about the angels 
That guard me every day, 

To keep my feet from danger, 

On the straight and narrow way. 

I took my child up in my arms, 

We tramped o’er the mountains steep, 
But ere I had finished the story 
My sweetheart was fast asleep. 


The Song Bird 

A tiny little song bird 

’Tis no bigger than my thumb 
But when ft comes to singing 

Gee but it can make things hum. 
It comes around in the evening 
To a twig down by the river 
And when this bird begins to sing 
He makes the whole earth quiver. 

Oh, when this bird (begins to sing 
And raises up his head 
And puts its*whole soul into song 
You think he’d raise the dead. 

He sings his song so sweetly 
To a tired and weary world 
That it sometimes seems defiance 
That this song bird at us hurled. 

This tiny little song bird 
Is filling up his niche 
Just the same as the man of finance 
Or the man who digs a ditch. 

He sings his song so sweetly 
And he does the best he can,, 

For he is ore of the units 

That is working out God’s plan. 





It’s Love, Just Love 

What makes the world more brighter 
It’s Love, Just Love. 

What makes the heart beat lighter 
It’s Love, Just Love. 

What makes the hours run swiftly by 
What drives away that inward sigh 
Wnat satisfies both you and I, 

It’s Love, Just Love. 

What eases pain when fear annoys, 

It’s Love, Just Love. 

What makes us cling to heavenly joys 
It’s Love, Just Love. 

What fills the heart with incense sweet 
What makes the world a living treat 
What makes us hapipy when we meet, 
It’s Love, Just Love. 

What makes us all more kindly, 

It’s Love, Just Love. 

What makes us see so blindly], 

It’s Love, Just Love. 

What makes us work from day to day 
What makes us struggle on the way 
What makes us fit to live for aye, 

It’s Love, Just Love. 


The Great Unseen 

There’s not a joy but has a sorrow 
Hid in a world of care. 

But the darkest cloud has a silver lining 
As bright as the noonday glare,, 

The aching heart may hide its anguish 
But the soul becomes more sweet, 

The day may simile or cast a shadow 
But the night’s a sweet retreat. 

There’s not a sigh but has its longinig 
For the things that cannot be, 

The greatest blessings of the soul 
Are taught to you and me. 

The greatest lives that strew the pathway 
'Could stop to shed a tear, 

The greatest hopes of the eternal 
•Spring from our lessons here. 





The Awakening of a City 

In the morning when: the tingling .red 
Comes overtop the hills; 

And the city seems to waken with its 
Nervousness a,r.id thrills; 

And the blackening smoke it whirls about 
Like an airship tor the' fray— 

The lights' go out and all about 
Seems ready for the day. 

And then the noisy, rumbling tones. 

Come rolling down, the street; 

There’s a shout of boyish laughter 
And the tramp of horses’ feet; 

The' clang of bells,, the nervous yells 
And the rising of the sun— 

A cry, a sob, a rushing mob— 

And 1 a city’© day’s begun. 

A city’s day 1 —what does it mean 
To every one and me? 

A chance for bread, a hurried dread, 

And a prayer on bended knee; 

A test of brain, and muscle 
And a wearied, anxious cry; 

The crushing of the thousands— 

And a city’s day goes by. 


Experience 

Experience! Yes, Experience! 

Oh, what it means today, 

My daddy used to tell me 
But I would laugh his fears away. 

And now I see wliat I have missed 
In his advice so good and strong, 

But he was a mighty good daddy, 

And me, well, life was a song. 

A song it seemed just every day, 

And the days spun into years; 

And the days were mixed with laughter, 
Jolly youth, friendships and tears. 

And then there came the burdens 
That come im every life. 

And then that word of my daddy’s;— 
“Experience” cut me like a knife. 

Oh, time if we could turn backward 
And view our follies o’er and o’er, 

With a miserly plea and a fiendish glee 
Land our bark on Success’s shore. 

But I’ve lived my lfe in my little niche, 
With heartaches and raptures galore, 

But I’ll never sigh as the ages roll by 
Arid I loaf with my daddy once more. 






Old Bill 

Old Bill; I just can go to him 
In trouble and in doubt, 

When I tell to him my story 
He can always help me out- 
If there’s a place in heaven 

That the good Lord has to lend, 

I hope he’ll keep that place for Bill, 
He’s any friend. 

Old Bill he seeims to sort of know; 

And he’s kind and old and gray, 

And when you get right up to him 
The clouds all pass away. 

And when I take him by the hand 
Or ask him for a lend, 

It never seems to worry him— 

He’s my friend. 

Old Bill? Of course I love him, 

For his sweetness all can see, 

The good L °rd knows that old Bill has 
That spirit cleft for me. 

The whole wide world is better 
As he Pears his journey’s end,, 

I know the Lord will keep him— 

He’s my friend. 


My Native Land 

Land of the free, my Native Land; 

Cherished and guided by God’s mighty hand, 

For His great mercies our voices we raise,, 

In soirjgs of Love and heartfelt Praise. 

Land of the free, my Native Land; 

Lord we do thank Thee for Gifts from Thy Hand.- 
May Thy rich blessings continue to flow, 

Till all the World Thy Love shall know. 

Land of the free, my Native Land; 

May we be ready to do God’s command- 
Help us forever to love and adore, 

And sing His Praises Evermloire. 







The Ohio Valley 

Take roe back to the Ohio Valley, 
Where my soul it longs to be; 
Where all nature seems to worship 
And the sky it laughs in glee, 
Where the radiance of the sipningtime 
Clings and loves in fancy free— 
Take roe back to the Ohio Valley 
For it’s Home, Sweet Home to me. 

Hail its beauty, crowned with glory, 
And its song birds are so rare, 

And the morning and the evening 
Blends so sweetly everywhere, 

And it seems like perfect Heaven 
When the stillness we can see— 
Take me back to the Ohio Valley, 

For it’s Home, Sweet Home to me. 

How we love the old traditions., 
Framed in stories o’er and o’er, 
How the Red Man loved this valley, 
But he’s gone forever more, 

And he left a tinge of sadness, 

And he fought,, for he could see 
All the beauties of this valley, 

Just the same as you and me. 

Take me back to the Ohio Valley, 

Let me live and love and die, 

And be buried with my loved ones 
Underneath the dear old sky; 

And as age on age sweeps o’er us, 
Generations pass as we 
I’ll be resting in the valley, 

For it’s Home, Sweet Home, to me. 


Every Day 

Living and lovir.g and working 
Trudging along o’er life’s tway, 

Off to work in the morning, 

Home at the close of the day. 

Doing the best for the loved ones, 

Playing the game on the square;, 

Facing the storm that is blinding, 

Ready to do and to dare. 

Hoping when dark are the shadows, 
Smiling through earth’s weary din, 
Asking the Lord for more courage, 

And strength that your efforts may win, 
Cling like a vine full of roses, 

(Suffer, but never say die, 

Mellow your heart with sweet kindness, 
And the reaping will come bye and bye. 






A Summer Day 

A Summer day, A Summer day, 

Not an angry, threatening oloudj, 

But upon the wing, high in' the air, 

A Hawk is crying loud; 1 

The clear blue sky, it stooips to kiss 

The verdure on the hills, 

Anid all around sweet (peace profound 
While the heart with rapture thrills. 

A Summer day, A Summer day, 

What a perfect happy dream, 

In ecstacy the joyous heart 
Lives in a loving stream. 

When all about, no clouds of doubt, 

Just a world of pleasures greet, 

A Kingdom for our daily life 
Lies sweetly at our feet. 

A Summer day, A Summer day, 

How loving, perfect, sweet,, 

The raptureous eye views earth and sky, 
Where peace and grandure meet- 
O happy day, O perfect day, 

How typical of love 

When' mercies float around us 

Like Incense from above. 


The Captain and His Whistle 

There’s an old time river captaim 
On a tiny little boat 

Who wants the whole wide world to know 
That he can keep afloat. 

When he comes into our city 
On the whistle he will stand 
And he’ll keep the old thing blowing 
Till he’s just about to land. 


In the morning when I’m sleeping 
Midst a sweet and happy dream 
That old steamboat comes creeping 
Slowly creeping up the stream. 

And just to amuse his kind old heart 
Which rums to beat the band 
He jumps upon he whistle 
And on that whistle he will stand. 

They tell me down the river 
When he hoars a rooster crow 
He jumps upon! the whistle 
Just to* show it he can blow. 

For there is no sweeter music 
To that captain in this land 
And he would not trade his whistle 
For our Sousa and his band. 













Keep the Home Fires Burning 

(Respectfully dedicated to the memory of Mrs. Lena G-uilbert 
Ford, author of “Keep the Home 'Fires. Burning) 

“Keep the Home Fires Burning,” 

And the voice of the singer is stilled, 

The heart throbs resound o’er the ocean, 

The world stands aghast, and is thrilled, 

A life filled with love and devotion 
Has passed to the mansions above, 

To sing a sweet song with the angels, 

The glorified song of His love. 

“Keep the Home Fires Burning,” 

And the singer goes out in the night, 

Where the boatman is patiently waiting 
To row to that city of light. 

A life filled with liove stilled forever, 

No more in this old world to roam,, 

But the Homes Fires will ever be burning 
’Till all of the boys come home. 

“Keep the Home Fires Burning,” 

And the song of the singer will live, 

Its pathos is pure and unending; 

What a beautiful hope it does give, 

How sweet when! the twilight is falling 
In the lands where’er you may roam, 

To know that the Home Fires are burning 
’Till all of the boys,, come home. 


At the Station 

The trains come ini 

And the trains they go. 

There are eyes that weep; 

There are tears that flow; 
There is joy in the heart; 

There is anguish and pain. 

The (trains' come in 
And they go again. 

The trains come in 

And the trains they go. 

There are smiles on faces; 

There are pleasures that flow; 
There’s rejoicing, there’s sorrow 
In the wild flitting din 
When the trains go out 
And the trains come in. 





Oh, That Dear Ohio River 

Ob, that dear Ohio river, 

Let me lioaf along its banks 
Where the (trees, the hilts and valleys 
Seem to leap with grateful thanks, 
Where the sun just seems to linger 
With its sweet and shining ray, 

And the river smiles iso sweetly 
As it flows from day to day. 


Oh, that dear Ohio river 
Just keeips singing a sweet song, 
la the soft, sweet summer sunlight 
As it 'moves its way along 
Down and doswh through mystic grandeur 
Through a labrinith of love, 

With the beauty that surpasses 
Like the fondness of a dove. 

Oh, thait dear Ohio river 

How our youthful fancies cling, 

How it soothes the heart in sorrow 
When life’s shadows leave their isting. 
All the tributes we can give it, 

All the homage we can pay, 

As it glides along so sweetly, 

Though the years are but a day. 


Giddy-Bye, Meeky 

(A picture of the beautiful love story of Gallagher and Jean, in 
Floyd Gibbon’s story “And They Said We Wouldn’t Fight.”) 

Giddy-bye, Meeky, 

Orry wore, Jean— 

And Floyd Gibbons tells a story of love; 

A story sio sweet 
And so beautiful, 

It seems kissed by the Angels, above. 

The old stone house 
And the crossing, 

While the girl at the window is seen; 

And the voice of 
The boy on the leaders, 

With his beautiful “Orry wore, Jean.” 

Giddy-bye, Meeky, 

Orry wore, Jean— 

And the beautiful girl feels a dart 
Of the Comrade who, 

Riding behind him, 

May have longed for the love of some heart. 

But they’re off with 
Their comrades to battle— 

What a world there is thrown on the screen! 

When she hears the 
Voice of the singer, 

And his beautiful “Orry wore, Jean” 







Are You Living? 

What’s the use of living if in living you 
exist, 

What’s the use of living if there’s nothing 
to resist, 

What’s the use of living if you do not 
make life pay, 

If you are no good to someone and you 
drift and drift away. 


What’s the use of living if your life is 
close and thin, 

With the radiance of your manhood 

narrowed down and shut within; 

And you have no smile or sunshine for 
the crowds along the way, 

You forget a word of kindness grows in 
sweetness day by day. 

What’s the use of living if you cannot 
'laugh and sing 

And toss the darkened shadows like a 
skylark on the wing; 

Thus live and love and labor till the 
closing of life’s day, 

Then fold your tents like tlhe Arabs and 
softly steal away. 


Tommy Cockcavne 

“Swing your partners 1 , right and left!” 

Old Tommy he would sing, 

Oh, how we loved to swing the girls, 

And cut the pigeon wing. 

Oh, my, the fun at the picnics 
On old Frank Walters’ hill, 

And the memory of old Tommy Cockcavne 
Is living with us still. 

“Promenade!” We’ll never forget it. 

“Hurry up!” How he could yell! 

“Ladies to the right, swing corners!” 

What fun no heart can tell. 

Our life was bubbling over 
In the freshness of the day; 

For Tommy Cockcayne could fiddle 
And could laugh the tears away. 

“Grand change!” How happy-go-lucky— 
“Balance all!” And we gave him a jig. 
That laugh that will live through the ages 
Was 1 lost in the whirligig. 

We boys and girls were so haippy. 

In my heart there’s a lovely refrain,, 

And I dream in the lingering twilight 
That I’m dancing with Tommy again- 





Cheer Up 

Cheer up, keep on smiling, 
Keep [working all day; 

For the years they are rolling, 
Fast rolling away. 

Each night marks the closing 
Of a day that is past* 

Cheer up, keep oin smiling 
As long as you last. 

Why fill up with sorrow 
This old world of ours? 

Why gather the thistles, 
Instead of the flowers? 

Why forget the b lee sings 
We have every day? 

Cheer up, keep on smiling, 
Forever and aye. 

Our lot may not carry 
A place of renown; 

Our lot may be humble, 

No chance for a crown; 

But we have a duty 
With others to share, 

We’ll accept it sweetly 
Each time everywhere. 

Cheer up, keep on smiling 
Till the close of our day, 

When we, like all others,, 

We, too, fade away; 

It’s: a glorious story, 

Past ages of ours, 

Cheer up, strew the pathway 
With beautiful flowers. 


Youth 

Youths thou delightful glimmer of joy 
That springs from a life sweetly nestling, 

That leaps like a fawn when there’s frost ini the air 
When the hunter with the leash he is wrestling. 

With a gleam in the eye and a spirit so fine. 

That the world seems to bound at its pleasure; 
Oh, Youth, we can see how delightful thou art. 

Thy beauty is more than all treasure. 






Sweet June 

Oh June, sweet June, 

Dear blessed June, 

When our souls and the world 
With each cornmunie, 

The gentle zephyrs 
And the balmy air. 

They rest so peacefully 
Everywhere. 

With the lazy leaflets 
And sunlight so sweet, 

We dir earn—just dream— 

In our quiet retreat, 

The memories and heart throbs 
Harmonize a sweet tune 
With the .world’s added pleasures 
In June, sweet June. 


To the Children 

I could cover their pathway with rosies, 

I could open earth’s treasures wide; 

I could let them bask in sweet sunshine, 
From morning till eventide. 

I could cheer their hearts with gladness,, 

I could ease their pain with a smile; 

I could let them be happy, so happy, 

Filled with blessedness all the while. 

Childhood, sweet, beautiful childhood; 

Sweet visions, of joy fill the sky; 

Sweet loves and sweet dreams that forever 
Soothe the heart as the years they roll by, 

But the memories that touch us in childhood 
Cling lovingly all through the years, 

A balm for the heart that grows weary, 

A solace for all of life’s tears. 


Autumn 

Autumn winds are sighing, 

Autumm leaves/ are dying, 

Autumn sweetly comes to us 
With Ibeauty and good cheer. 
Autumn skies are churning, 
Autumn’s sun is burning, 

Autumn sings with gladness 
And the vintage of the year. 

Autumn tells a story, 

Autumn rings with glory, 

Autumn fills with gladness 

Ere the wintry winds draw near,, 
Autumn’s, heart is growing, 
Autumn’s soul is glowing, 

Autumn paints the pictures 
Ere sweet nature dropisi a tear. 








Mother’s Love 

When Mother takes me in her arms, 
And I’m tired, and sick,, and cold; 
When everything is turning around, 
And the chills make me feel old; 

Oh, what a joy aind peace I find 
When she takes me in her arms, 

And I just feel so contented, 

And so safe from all alarms. 

When Mother sweetly murmurs 
As I lay upon her breast, 

“My poor dear, I’m so sorry, 

And I hope your sleep brings rest;” 
And I cuddle up and kiss her, 

As I feel her love devine, 

For the world can never give relief 
Like that mother’s love of mime. 

When Mother used to tuck me 
In my little trundle bed, 

Made warm with irons so good and hot, 
When my evening prayers were said; 

I cam feel her arms about me, 

Hear her sweet voice gently sing, 

In my heart there comes a wireless 
From the palace of the King. 


Mamma’s Boy 

Just because I love you 

I could hold you all my life, 

Through storms, through rain and sunshine, 
Through nil bitteriress and 'Strife. 

Your chubby, pretty dimpled cheeks. 

Your flesh so soft and warm, 

Come cuddle close to mamma, 

She will keep you from all harm. 

Just because I love you, 

Just one sweet, loving kisia, 

The twining of*your soul with mine 
Brings sweet eternal bliss. 

Your pretty curls., your laughing eyes, 

The smile I love to see, 

Come cuddle close to mamma, 

For you’re all in all to me- 

Just because I love you, 

Not a soul couldi be more sweet. 

You’re mamma’s boy, you’re mamma’s joy, 
From your head down to your feet, 

Just throw your armis. around me, dear, 

A big hug! Oh; what bliss! 

Come cuddle close to mamma 

And give her one sweet, loving kiss. 





The Garbage Man 

i. 

It’s the garbage man wiitih his old tin can 
At five o’clock in. the mo-rain’ 

That makes one creep from a beautiful sleep 
With thoughts that are not adornin’. 

He begins /his day in a quiet way, 

And he slams the top on the wagon; 

Theni he bangs the can like a crazy man, 
And you’d think he had a jag on. 

II. 

Again I sleep a beautiful sleep, 

And my dreams are simply teasing. 

The rippling rills, the wooded hills. 

And the valleys are more than pleasing 

Then the horses’ feet on the old brick street 
And a slam and a bang and a rattle. 

“Gid up„” cries -he, “gid up” wakes me 
And my beautiful dream seems a battle. 

III. 

Again I sleep a quiet sleep 

Away from the noise of the city. 

My thoughts, were marred I slept too hard, 
And the wasted time seemed a pity, 

So I hurry back to my little shack 
In the city where life is adornin’, 

And I wait for the can and that musical man 
At five o’clock in the morain’. 


My Dearest 

I’ve just been thinking of you, dear, 

Morning, noon and night; 

I’ve just been dreaming of you dear, 

From darkness to daylight. 

My heart keeps singing a beautiful song, 

You were the theme of it all my life long, 
Sweetest of music mid’st life’s busy throng— 
My Dearest. 

I’ve just been thinking of you, dear, 

Days and months and years; 

I’ve just been dreaming of you, dear, 

Through smiles and sighs and tears. 

Kiss me again a;s in sweet days off old; 

Life’s sweetest story must ever ibe told-, 

God grant that our love will never grow cold.— 
My Dearest. 





Baby 

It’s just a wee 'baby, 

So sweet and so iair„ 

With eyes tnat are .shining, 
And the blackest of hair. 
And crowing and kicking. 
And looking about; 

“Who are all of you people, 
I’d like to find out.” 


It’s jusit a wee baby, 

With the pinkest of skin, 

And looking with wonder 
When the neighbors 'come in. 

And tucked in his cradle 
Oh my, ain’t it sweet? 

The perfume of roses 
Ne’er gave such a treat. 

It’s just a wee baby, 

With the prettiest chin 

And the sweetest of dimples 
Whie.ni the smiles enter in. 

Its pretty, fat arms, 

Its legs and its toes, 

When I tickle bis feet 
The young rascal crows. 

It’s just a wee baby, 
l et me give it a kiss. 

It is sent firm high heaven 
To fill earthly bliss. 

Its mother is sweet, too. 

Its daddy, how proud! 

It’s just a wee baby 

Oome down from a cloud. 











When the Children Sing 

I love to hear the 'children sing 
When the day flows gently by, 

A joyous rapture fills my btreast 
And a tear bedims the eye. 

A yearning for the long ago 
And its memories sweetly bring, 

The old days ipase before me 
When I hear the children sing. 

The gates of glory open wide 
When I hear the children sing, 

I seem to see away inside 
In the palace of the King. 

The voices young and oh, so sweet 
Would charm an angel with the treat, 
I could lay my trophies at their feet 
When I hear the children sing. 

Some day when time is ended 
We will hear the children sing, 

When all are gathered together 
In the Palace of the King. 

I know I’ll remember the voices 
In my heart they’ll sweetly cling. 

And I’ll just walk up and say “hello” 
When I hear the children sing 


To One of My Boyhood Idols 

When Disher Michaels began- to whistle, 

The birds they all quit singing. 

I have heard him fill the world so full 
That everything seemed ringing. 

There is no tones from the Emerald Isle, 

Or the land of the Scotch and the Thistle, 

Could touch old Disher when he mozied along, 
And his so-ul was in his whistle. 

I’ve heard that whistle, so soft and sweet, 

When the echoes they just kept ringing- 

He would fill the world so full of joy 
That the angels it seemed were singing. 

I have heard him trill like a mocking bird 
Among fields of clover and thistle; 

And the world is better that Disher once lived 
To charm all his friends with his whistle. 












My Buddy and I 

It's nice to have a Buddy 
In this dear old world of ours, 

Just to chummy-ehum. together, 

And to speed the idle hours; 

For there’s a sweet ooimimunion 
That the worlid it cannot see, 

And the days were always happy 
When my Buddy loafed with me. 

Sometimes we used to walk around 
On a Sunday afternoon, 

Or sometimes, in* the evening 
'Neath the soft and silver moon; 

We never thought of planning, 

For the world was good to see, 

And our hearts were warm and happy 
When my Buddy loafed with me. 

Sometimes we would stroll along 
And whistle and softly hum; 

Ai d then at timesi, we would laugh and kid 
Some worthless wreckless bum. 

And then we’d start for home again 
When the twinkling 'stars weld see; 

For the world it seemed was singing 
When my Buddy loafed with me. 

Sometimes we would loaf around 
In the valleys or o’er the hills; 

Sometimes we would go in swimming 
With its ecstacies and thrills; 

Sometimes when we would take our sleds 
Downi the pike a streak you’d see, 

For they were haippy, happy days, 

When my Buddy loafed with me. 

Some of the boys are living, 

Some have passed away, 

Some that were jolly and happy 
Are getting old and gray; 

Out of the fading twilight 
Come visions I love to see, 

And I muse of the many happy days 
When my Buddy loafed with me. 







Sweet Days Gone By 

I’d love to be a kid again 
And with the kiddies piay, 
r io laugh and sing and have no care, 

And play the live-long day. 

Oh, happy, haippy, boyhood days 
That come to us no more— 

But I’d love to be a kid again 
And live it o’er and o’er. 

I’d like to go to a pionic 
With a bunch that’s full of life, 

I’d like to whittle the chips for the fire 
With my good old barlqw knife. 

And I’d like to take my fishing pole 
And catch ’em—you know how long— 
Then loaf among the woods and flowers, 
And sing some good old song. 

I’d like to be a kid again 

And dance old Dan Tucker for fair, 

And keep the girls' a-swinging 
For we just floated in the a.ir. 

I’d love to follow the fife and drum 
With tunes we shall hear mo more 
Then take another good licking 
When I’d conne home tired and sore. 

I’d like to be a kid again 
With a joyous heart and free 
For there’s many, many, many things 
Wrapped up in my life to see. 

There’s many that I have forgotten 
And many have forgotten me, 

But I hope weTl all ibe kids again 
In that land of Eternity. 








The Ohio River 

Oh! that dear Ohio River, 

Just about the last of June, 

Whem, the frogs begin to holler 
And the light of the full moon 
Paints a picture that no artist 
Can conceive for brush or tune. 
When the moonlight beams upon it 
Just about the last of June. 

Oh! the quiet, stilly sweetness 

Seems to soothe and banish pain, 
And the moonlight on the water 
Is reflected back again; 

And the hills like watchful towers 
With the picture doth commune, 
When the moonlight strikes the river 
Just about the last of June. 

With the fading of the roses, 

And the changing of the air, 

Gomes a sadnesis that doth linger 
All around and everywhere; 

But our joyful hearts remember 
And we sing a gladsome tune, 

When the moonlight hits the wafer 
Just about the last of Jur.ie. 

Some dav we shall cross a river 
That is mystical, yet true, 

Where the friends that have departed 
Daily wait to welcome you; 

And I love to sit and listen 
For a song or some sweet tune 
On the banks of that old river 
Just about the last of June. 





Sorrow, Sorrow 

Somebody’s dead; there’s crepe on the door. 
Somebody’s passed away, 

Somebody’s gone to their long, long home, 

In the land of a perfect day. 

Out in the night to be pillowed in love k 
Home to the mansions so fair, 

Safe in the arms of Jesus above 
To rest so (peacefully there. 

Somebody’s dead; there’s creipe on the door. 
Sorrcw, sorrow and pain. 

Lives that have lived m this old world of ours 
Must pass to their Maker again. 

Softly, quietly, gently pass by, 

A prayer in your heart full of love, 

Remember, some day crepe will darken your way 
When you pass to the mansions above. 


. i._. 






Majority Wheeling 































library of congress 































